Madness
by Shainareth
Summary: A morbid love between a Master and an Otome. Set in "Mai-Otome" manga, this story is focused on Takumi XIII and his Meister, Akira. Thanks to Atlantislux and ChibiKagura for helping me with the translation.


**MADNESS**

The girl bit her lip, feeling his fingers sink easily into her. She opened her eyes, then closed them for few instants while he kissed her face, trailing his lips down her jaw and her neck. She took a deep breath, trying to adjust to that new, unfamiliar physical presence within her. Even if she was well aware that he was not being intrusive, she would have allowed him to go all the way down.

Her dark hair, which usually framed her face, lay dishevelled on the pillow as he unfastened the ribbon around her long ponytail. Her almond-shaped eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, and her arms draped around the young man's neck while his half-naked body pressed her down on the mattress. Her long, slim legs were only slightly opened because there were still a lot of questions blocking her from completely obeying to her Master's wishes. The GEM on her earlobe glowed in the dark, only faintly visible by the oil lamp's weak light.

Akira could not help asking herself what would have happened to them if, by mistake or by succumbing to passion, they had a complete intercourse. What would they do after that?Her Master needed an Otome. At least one of them needed to maintain a certain amount of composure, even if it was difficult for the girl, who wanted only the love of the man cuddling her at that moment.

But Akira was a Meister Otome, one of the best ones, and a kunoichi. She had to resist temptation.

There was also a little, stupid, practical part of her that suggested caution: even if Akira and her Master shared a deep bond of trust, could she really be sure that he would want her again after tonight? It was customary for a king to have sex with his servants, and the few kings who had lain with their Otome later married those girls. However, Akira did not think that her Emperor would have graced her with such a joy. But she hoped for it, deep inside, because denial would have destroyed her heart.

As if responding to all of her fears, the young man kissed her mouth, softly and gently like their first kisses that evening had been.

"Akira…" His voice was as composed as always. "I won't do anything that you don't want," he assured her, while his blue eyes buried in her dark ones, "So, please, don't worry."

The girl swallowed, her throat dry, and nodded, noticing how her stiff her body was. Takumi gave a small smile of both tenderness and resignation. He freed her hair from the ribbon and pushed away her bangs from her forehead. "If you are scared to lose you powers, I promise you that it won't happen" he said.

He was about to add something, but the words died on his lips. Akira was an Otome, in a sense nothing more than a killing machine. She was a tool in his hands. He had never cared to use her thoroughly on the battlefield, and never for mere personal purposes_, _but now he began to wonder what he would have done without her. Their lives were indivisible: if Akira had been killed, Takumi would have died too. He knew this, and his trust in her was absolute. Also, he greatly respected her.

Noticing His Majesty's inner conflict, Akira stared at him frantically and forced herself to regain her voice. "Takumi-sama…? What are you worried about?"

Her Master took a deep breath before asking: "Akira… why are we doing this?"

She could not answer.

Earlier that evening she had accompanied the Emperor in his rooms as usual, and, because he suffered from an illness that did not allow him to stand, she had helped him out of his wheelchair and sat him on his big, soft four-poster bed. The warrior had drawn the curtains around the bed and sat down close to help Takumi undress. It was their evening routine, and her duty as Otome, so Akira was used to chatting with him about his day, even if she could not stop herself in glancing at her young Master's body.

From the very beginning, she had had the strange, but completely legitimate feeling that their relationship was slightly wrong: a king and a servant should not look at each other in the way that they were. In the morning, when she helped him dress; in the evening, when she helped him do the opposite; and, worse, in the royal bath, when she washed his back, their eyes always peeked at each other's body, with or without clothes.

At first, she told herself that it was because she was new to the job, or because she had an attractive Emperor, or because of the crazy idea that too many people had about the relationship between Master and Otome. It was true that many wealthy young men wished to have a maiden who would care for them and satisfy all of their whims but one...

Over the years, however, Akira's resolution had begun to waver. After days and nights spent with her Master, she could swear that she was not driven by a raw sexual desire; her desire had melted into a deeper passion, rooted on the respect, trust and affection that had grown between them. She could not make sure if he returned her feelings or not, nor she could look for physical satisfaction in his arms. The only things she could have done until then were to silently suppress her emotions and sometimes, shamefully, give herself pleasure while thinking about him.

But that particular evening, Takumi had asked her to sleep in his room. It was not the first time he asked, because Akira was used to staying with him when he was ill or in a bad mood. That night, however, the young man had invited her while she was taking off his shirt. He had stopped her hands, holding them gently in his own. Their eyes met, again, when they finally closed the distance between them, both physically and not. The lips of one frantically searched for those of the other, they met and opened easily.

"Akira…" said Takumi, caressing her naked belly after removing the cause of her embarrassment. It was not quite right to have something inside her during a serious talk. "Are you… doing this because I want it?"

Astonished, she raised her dark eyebrows, a faint smile blossoming on her lips. A warm sense of relief descended upon her, so she could finally relax.

"I'd like to say so," she had to admit, her voice trembling. "It would be less painful for sure."

"Why?" he asked, his heart beginning to beat faster.

It did not make sense to hide it from him, so Akira stared boldly into his eyes, her own shining, and not because of the oil lamp.

"I know that sooner or later every Otome faces the true crossroad in her life, when she meets that special person. It seems that I'm at mine now, when I can't have a second thought about my decision to become Your Otome," she explained painfully. "I don't regret being here, in Chaldea, obeying You, Your Majesty, or being here, in this moment, with you… God knows how much I wanted it…" She was silent for a moment, as she needed to breathe again, but, noticing that Takumi was about to talk, she forced herself to continue with an almost strict voice. "You need an Otome, and I won't allow any another woman to take my place."

Amazed by Akira's reply, her Master stared at her, almost amused. "Which? My Otome's place or my lover's one?"

"Both."

"That's nonsense."

"Love is nonsense."

"And will you let him carry you over the threshold of madness?"

"I'd do anything to stay with You."

Takumi kissed her tenderly again. "Then, I won't leave you alone. We will both be guided by this ruthless god that, more than death, kills everybody who has the misfortune of running into it."


End file.
